Meanwhile Jim, kneeling in front of the fire, had melted the wax sufficiently to make it malleable, and now began to knead and mould it.
“Here be his legs,” he muttered to himself, “and now we must make thiccy hat stick out.”
With a kind of groan his mother went over to a chest of drawers in a corner of the room, and after fumbling for some time returned with a paper of pins.
“It be very nigh ready,” whispered Jim working away. “Ugh! I’d like to smash the cheeky face of ’en.” And with that he gave a fierce poke at the small knob which did duty for the gallant yeoman’s countenance.
The figure being completed Mrs. Hardy bent downwards handing Jim the pins one by one; her son viciously proceeding to insert as many as the effigy would hold, and beginning by driving a particularly large and crooked one into the middle of its chest. The blazing logs threw large grotesque shadows of the stooping forms of the mother and son upon walls and ceiling, and when presently Jim held out the bristling little image at arm’s length, its fantastic reproduction, naturally much magnified, did indeed appear to bear some weird resemblance to the person whom it was meant to represent.
“Now then, Mother, say the words,” ordered Jim, as he set down the figure on the hearth.
“Lard, I dursn’t!” whimpered Mrs. Hardy. “Say ’em yourself; I don’t wish the poor young man no ’arm.”
Her son, after casting on her a withering glance, indicative of supreme scorn at this despicable attempt to shirk responsibility, began slowly and resolutely to repeat his impious incantation. By the time he had finished, the miniature yeoman had considerably diminished in size, the broad-brimmed hat had toppled to one side, and several of the pins had dropped out. Jim straightened himself; his face was quite pale and his brow was wet.
“Get along to bed, Mother,” he remarked, “I reckon he’ll do now. I d’ ’low Trooper Willcocks ’ull not feel so very comfortable in the morning.”
But lo and behold! though on the following day nothing was left of the effigy but a sticky indistinguishable mass of wax and pins, the very first person whom Jim encountered on his way to work was Trooper Willcocks, apparently in the best of health and spirits. Jim was downcast, but not yet doubtful. He would give him a week, he thought; but at the end of the week Trooper Willcocks looked better than ever, and what was worse, was more frequently in Chrissy’s company.